


What Was Always There

by oopsallspiders



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Bisexual Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bisexual Jaskier | Dandelion, Curses, F/M, Fluff, Gay Sex, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Multi, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, Orgy, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oopsallspiders/pseuds/oopsallspiders
Summary: An innocent spell (well fairly innocent) goes awry, and an entire town falls under a curse. Geralt and Jaskier try to help Yennefer end the spell even as the curse begins to take hold of them as well.Can the pair save the village before it's too late?Also, who knew so many peasants enjoyed group sex?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	What Was Always There

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first fanfic I've ever written. So, thoughts and comments are welcome. :-)

“And did the Countess Filipa, actually thank me for helping her escape that dreadful bore? I think not! Instead her ladyship decided--”

“Jaskier. Stop.” 

“Oh, you always tell me to stop, but I swear, you’ll beg I go on when I get to the part where I--”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, grabbing the bard’s reins, “stop.” With a slight tug, Jaskier’s mare paused its slow amble. Roach whickered and stepped up beside her. 

Jaskier shot him a wounded expression, but did stop speaking long enough to study the curving road ahead. Distant orange lights between the late summer trees cast long dancing shadows over the roadside. Beside that, the wood was eerily quiet. “Geralt,” Jaskier stage- whispered, “Is that a fire up ahead? Seems a tad strange to make camp in the middle of the day. In the middle of the road for that matter.”

The Witcher took a long sniff, and frowned, “No. No smell of smoke.”

“Then what do you suppose it is?”

Geralt increased his usual frown, “I don’t know.”

“Well then,” the bard’s had abandoned his half-hearted attempt at quiet, “Let us see what lies ahead!” with a quick heel, Jaskier’s mare broke into a trot. Geralt grumbled, but with a flick of his reins, sent Roach to follow. 

As soon as they rounded the bend, Jaskier’s mare gave a nervous scream, and reared, nearly throwing the bard. The road was blocked by a wall of flames twice as high as a man. The wall curved off into the forest in both directions. 

“Geralt, you were wrong. It is fire!” Jaskier called out, before his eyes widened, “Wait. Shouldn’t we make a hasty retreat? Forest fires can move quite quickly I’m told.”

“It’s not a fire.”

“Geralt, I’m quite certain that this wood is burning and--”

“Do you feel any heat? Any change in the wind?” 

“Well… no. But--”

“Jaskier, it’s not a fire.” Geralt’s eyes narrowed, “It’s something worse.”

“Something worse?”

“Magic.” 

Jaskier studied the wall of flame with pursed lips, “Hmm, a wall of magical fire? That sounds like something out of a Skelliger epic. I wonder what it’s protecting?” a sly smile broke out, “Perhaps there’s a princess inside. One in dire need of saving?”

Geralt grumbled, “You assume it’s supposed to keep people out. It might have been placed to keep something in.”

“All the more reason that Geralt the White Wolf of Rivia and his trusted brother in arms, should ride in and save the day!”

“Brother in arms?”

“Uh… trusted comrade?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. 

“Boon companion then?” Jaskier bit his lip, “Damn hard to rhyme something with companion though. Canyon? With reckless abandon?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, slid off Roach and approached the fire with an outstretched hand. The day was warm, but even with his fingers hovering just beyond the wall, he felt nothing. The whole thing made his back itch. With a final sigh, he plunged his hand into the fire, but as hoped, he did not burn. Truth be told, he felt little at all. 

“It’s an illusion.” 

Despite the fire’s illusory shape, they had to blindfold their horses and lead them through by hand. Not much further down the road, Geralt tied the pair to a tree beside a meadow with ample wet grass. Roach snorted, but gave no other sign of appreciation. 

“Where does this road lead?”

“Well through Redania eventually, but I’m fairly certain we’re near a village called Ruven, if that innkeep spoke truly. Though I rather doubt it, if his rates were any indication.”

Geralt smiled, he could be driven out of villages with spitting and stones, but somehow, Jaskier was the untrusting one?

The pair passed a few lonely out buildings at the village’s edge, some gardens, and an untended pen of pigs. When they reached the first house, a weathered wooden cabin, there was no sign of life. The second and third houses were the same. A little further on, and a few of the houses had doors hanging wide opened. One was abandoned with a line of laundry still hanging by the window. 

“Where is everyone?” for once, Jaskier’s voice was quiet.

Geralt heard it first, a sound further up the lane. It was a man, two perhaps. Groaning. He’d seen enough gutted villagers to know that if they still had enough breath to make sound, they could survive with attention. Probably. Geralt drew his sword either way. 

“Stay here,” he ordered in low gruff tones. 

Sword outstretched, Geralt crept forward, keeping to the walls of the houses on the inner curve of the bend in the lane. It was definitely two voices. Two men. The sounds were more regular than Geralt expected. As he turned the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks, sword falling to his side. 

Two men leaned against the wall of a smithy shop, their trousers down to their ankles, fucking eachother for everything they were worth. 

“Well, you don’t see that in every village.” Jaskier’s tone was light. 

“I thought, I told you to stay there.”

“Well it looks like the only danger I’m in is getting an eyeful.”

Although Geralt very much wished to cross over to another lane, these two men were the first signs of human life he’d found. He loudly cleared his throat, but the pair didn’t seem to notice. Sighing, he began to approach. Still nothing. 

Despite being less than ten paces away, and clearing his throat for the second time, the pair did not cease their activities. The blacksmith, judging by his thick forearms streaked with ash, diligently pounded the ass of a slim blonde fellow, wearing a flour covered apron. The blonde man’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was jerking himself with wild abandon as he pushed back to meet every thrust. 

Geralt didn’t like to be interrupted either, but this was getting ridiculous, “Uh excuse me, where is everyone else?”

The pair still didn’t respond, it was as if Geralt didn’t exist. With one hand on the blonde man’s hip, the blacksmith moved to gain greater leverage and pulled on his apron, sending up a cloud of flour. The pair both sneezed before collapsing onto the ground. Not missing a beat, the blacksmith pulled himself onto the blonde man, and began to fuck him right into the dirt. The blonde fellow, only stopped to arch his neck back and lock lips with the blacksmith between thrusts, moaning all the while. 

“Well, I certainly admire their dedication, but aren’t they being a bit rude? Or… ruder?”

“It must be sorcery, or drugs.”

“Well I,” Jaskier sneezed, “should procure some of those for my next holiday with the Countess.”

“Come on. Maybe we can find some answers toward the center of town.”

Over the decades Geralt had learned that most little highway towns, like Ruven, had a very similar layout. Roads branched off from the main road, but the highway would inevitably run through a square with the usual temples, a village green, and perhaps an inn or two nearby. It was also, Geralt noted, the place they usually put up gallows and set circles for stoning. 

As they neared the square, the noise of many people echoed over the empty wooden buildings. After their first introduction, Geralt was certain the wave of moans, groans, and curses did not herald a massacre. 

Jaskier gave a low whistle when they entered the square. 

Bodies everywhere. Men and women in various states of undress had seemingly abandoned the stalls still heavy with produce to fuck on the village green. There was a great tangle of people as pairs and groups, reached for each other with mad need. Everything Geralt had ever seen in a whore house, and still more besides, was writhing around Ruven’s square. But, at the center, a woman stood dressed in a dark silk brocaded dress, a ribbon wrapped her head and across her nose, making diligent notes into a folio with a quill.

“Yennefer.” Geralt shook his head, and stamped his way into the square past the orgy until he loomed before the sorceress, “Strange magic, piles of fucking people, I should have guessed it would be you.”

Yennefer looked up from her work, “Ah Geralt, those muscles of yours could be of use. And hello as well to...Yaskin?”

“It’s Jaskier,” the bard replied snottily.

“Of course it is. Well, I’m most of the way there, have you managed to find a baker by the name of Marek?”

“Yennefer,” Geralt's voice was a low growl, “What the fuck is going on here?”

Yennefer sighed and adjusted the ribbon around her head. It was perhaps a handspan wide and covered her nose completely. Geralt couldn’t help but notice it was holding something against her face, “Well I was passing through on my way south to Temeria, when I decided to provide my services. For a small village, the Ruveni carry a lot of coin… and it appears are also quite creative.” 

“What. Did. You. Do?” Geralt had crossed paths with Yennefer a few times since she had struck out on her own. While most of them were pleasurable, they also had a tendency to be… bloody and chaotic. 

Yennefer rolled her eyes, “A young lady, Aneta, daughter of a wool merchant I think, had her eye on a young farmer named Konrad. I provided her a potion to catch his eyes.”

“A love potion, Yen? Even you know how dangerous those can be.”

Yennefer’s eyes narrowed, “Yes,  _ even I _ know that it. Oh, come off it Geralt! I didn’t give her a love potion... per se. Aneta told me that she’d lain with Konrad before. This was more a matter of… awakening prior affections.”

“Perhaps I should give that to the countess,” Jaskier muttered from behind him.

“See Geralt, even  _ he  _ sees the use of such things. Far less mind-bending involved. Everyone just acts on feelings they already had.”

“So then how the fuck did this happen?” Geralt gestured to a gathering of men and women locked in an oral sex chain, stopping only to change partners or sneeze. 

“Hmm, it appears the boy was sick, flu or a cold I think, and the potion interacted with it. Made it airborne.”

“Have you started looking for a cure?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, “No, I decided to take up a study of what positions were popular in Redania for next time I’m in the kingdom--of course I fucking have a cure.”

“Then why haven’t you used it?”

“I have. Multiple times,” Yennefer glared at a pile of villagers, “It appears that even after the condition is cured, people can be… reinfected.”

“Come on Geralt, lets leave this witch to her own mess.” Jaskier spoke quietly just beyond Geralt’s shoulder. 

“Feel free to go. But if I can’t contain this, it could spread.”

“Ah, the fire.”

“I needed something to keep travelers from passing through. But I didn’t count on Witchers.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“Simple, gather all the people together, dispel the lot of them in one go, and get on with my fucking life.”

“See?” Jaskier murmured into Geralt’s ear, “She has this handled. Let’s go on to Tretogor. I know this perfect inn on the southside, it has the softest beds in the northern kingdoms,” as he spoke, one of Jaskier’s hands ran across Geralt’s back, the other moved over his hip, “Or else… we could just find one of these abandoned houses…”

“Jaskier, what…” Jaskier’s hand closed over Geralt’s crotch. 

“Come on Geralt, I want that massive cock of yours. I’ve wanted it since the first time I saw you in the bath. Gods above, I could sing entire epic cycles about your cock,” already quite hard, Jaskier ground himself against Geralt’s ass.

Yennefer bit her lip to keep from snickering, “I do believe Triss Merigold owes me a great deal of money. Love her, but I worry for Temeria if she didn’t see that coming.” 

“Yen!” Geralt yelped, as Jaskier began to work on his belt, “Please do something.”

“If you insist,” she grinned, “Frankly, I’ve always been curious to see how good the bard is with his tongue.”

“Yennefer!”

Yennefer pulled out a branch of holly, and spoke a word with a series of hissing syballants. The leaves turned to ash, and Jaskier began to cough, “Here,” Yennefer reached into her bag, to pull out another length of ribbon, and small sachet of herbs, “tie this to his face, make sure the herbs are touching his nose.”

Geralt, pulled a wheezing Jaskier over, and made quick work of it. Jaskier silently nodded, his eyes watering. 

“Thank you.” Geralt’s voice was low. 

“Since you haven’t once tried to undress me yet, I will assume your Witcher mutations have rendered you immune. Fascinating.”

“How many names are left on your list?” Geralt growled. 

“Only a few dozen now. Here, I managed to find this in the home of the tax collector,” she nodded, “surprisingly nimble for a man in his seventies.”

Geralt snatched the paper from her, and stormed away from the square with Jaskier in tow. 

Moving groups of people in the middle of a myriad of sex acts wasn’t easy. Eventually Geralt took a fruit cart from the main square, and used that as a means of ferrying couples back and forth. Although Jaskier did less of the heavy lifting, he managed the finding of people, and provided accurate but mumbled directions for each name on their list. Besides that, the bard didn’t say a word. 

After only an hour, the pair returned to the exhausted embrace of Janosh the blacksmith and Merek the baker. Janosh was far too large and strong for Geralt to move easily, so instead Geralt just peeled him temporarily off the baker, and lifted Merek up to a standing position. As Janosh moved toward him, Geralt grabbed the blonde man by the thighs and hoisted him up like a dancer. The blacksmith, took the unspoken invitation and rushed the man, gathering him into his arms, to continue fucking him while holding him up. With Merek’s legs wrapped around Janosh, Geralt steadied the baker’s shoulders, and partially supported his weight, so that he could lead the pair towards the cart. 

“Janosh,” Marek’s voice was the barest whisper as the blacksmith moved with slow measured thrusts, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Between grunts, Janosh answered, “I will never stop loving you.”

Feeling every thrust of the man in his arms, Geralt tried to look away. Whether it was the emotion of the men’s words, or the smell of sweat and cum, Geralt realized his growing erection had come to full mast. 

He gingerly placed the pair into the cart, and turned away when Jaskier approached, “We have maybe a dozen names left, probably six more trips at most.” 

Geralt only nodded and grunted in response. 

Maybe it was constant view of writhing naked bodies, or Yennefer’s smolderingly amused expression, but Geralt’s erection would not abate. Even though it had taken much longer, he could feel the potion working its way through his veins. For perhaps the thousandth time, he wished the stories about witchers lacking emotions were true. 

After moving a pair of older women locked in a deep but relatively chaste kiss, Geralt noticed the corpse on the floor. It was an older man, naked and sticky, Geralt could smell the scent of sex on his still cooling body. Despite the circumstances, the smell wasn’t helping his condition. 

“His heart probably gave out,” Jaskier’s voice was low, “I admire their stamina, but some of the older ones probably won’t last the night.” 

“If they can’t stop, all of them will give out eventually, whether from thirst or exhaustion.”

“Unrequited feelings can be a dangerous thing.” Jaskier whispered. 

Geralt sighed, and waited for the bard to elaborate. He wanted him to speak on, but he didn’t.

Their next target house was empty, as the pair stood in the main room, among lovingly crafted woven blankets, Jaskier finally looked Geralt in the eye, “Listen, I--I’m sorry for what happened. I hope this won’t affect our friendship,” he sniffled, “Gods damn this cursed ribbon and these ridiculous stinking herbs!”

“Jaskier.”

Tears began running down his face, “You probably feel sorry for me. Damnit, I’m just your silly little singer friend, mooning over the handsome witcher. Gods! I’m no better than those Sodden girls, looking to mount the White Wolf.”

“Jaskier.” 

“I just want you to know, I never would have acted that way, never would have changed our relationship if--”

Jaskier’s voice was muffled by Geralt’s kiss. Geralt held him tightly in his arms, and began to kiss across his face, down his neck. He could hear, Jaskier sigh softly, lightly nibbled on his shoulder. 

“Geralt… the potion… it’s affecting,” his words were breathless. 

“Nothing that wasn’t there before,” Geralt rumbled in a deep bass, his face pressed against the bards skin. 

Jaskier moaned, as Geralt pulled back, and tore the bard’s doublet in half at the breast. Despite the potion setting fire to his veins, Geralt studied the bard’s lithe form. His pale skin was dusted by a little spray of dark hair. Geralt watched his chest rise and fall, before diving down, and kissing over the curve of his pecs. He stopped and made lazy circles with his tongue around the bard’s nipples. Gods he smelled good. Geralt inhaled the scent of him, and kissed his tight belly, grinning as the bard squirmed under his lips. 

Jaskier wasn’t idle, he ran his hands through Geralt’s long hair, letting his fingers dance over the Witcher’s ears and across his stubbled chin. He pulled Geralt down to the floor among the blankets, and as the Witcher knelt over him, he began to undo the studs on Geralt’s jerkin. 

Geralt leaned back down to taste his lips again, for a moment, he considered pulling away that ridiculous ribbon around his face, but he decided against it. Let him have a clear head. Geralt shuddered, as he leaned over the bard. Jaskier’s hands had deftly undone his pants, and had ran a teasing finger along his cock. 

Growling, the Witcher tore off his jerkin and pushed off his trousers, as the bard did the same. The feeling of the bard’s skin against him was like a warm fire on a cold winter night. Jaskier’s cock sprung hard against his belly, already leaking precum. As Geralt moved down to take it, he felt Jaskier’s hands on his chest pushing him back. Letting him take the lead, Geralt rolled over onto his back, and shivered as he felt the bard place a hand gingerly on his cock. 

Jaskier began to explore Geralt’s chest, his abs, those perfect little lines above his hips. As he kissed across Geralt’s belly he whispered, “Barghest,” his kisses climbed back up his chest, “Cockatrice, Drowner,” he grinned and pressed his face into Geralt’s shoulder, “Striga.”

“I’ve had women ask for the stories of my scars, but I’ve never had them told to me.”

Jaskier lifted his head, a satisfied smile on his face, “I’ve been telling your stories for a while now,” he stuck out a tongue, “if you cared to listen. Now, where were we?” Jaskier moved faster than Geralt expected, bending down and biting him softly on his thigh. A very undignified giggle escaped Geralt’s lips. 

During the course of Jaskier’s kissing, his fingers had continued to lightly graze the length of Geralt’s cock and gently squeeze his balls. Geralt was fond of some teasing, but this was driving him mad. When Jaskier finally took his cock in hand, and gently slipped his tongue under his foreskin, he moaned in approval. 

Jaskier took the sign, and began to swirl his tongue over Geralt’s head, while his hands travelled over his shaft with slow strokes. Jaskier began to suck Geralt’s cock, moving down inch by inch while tugging at his foreskin with his tongue. He went deeper and deeper, his hands never stopping their slow strokes up to his lips. Geralt’s toes curled as the Bard passed the halfway point. On their own accord, his hips rose to meet the bard’s downard moving head. It went well at first but then Jaskier pulled away, gasping, “Sorry,” he chuckled, “hard to go down all the way with this bloody ribbon around my nose.”

Undaunted, he returned to sucking Geralt’s cock, and eventually pushed the ribbon against Geralt’s skin. Geralt sighed at the feeling of Jaskier’s throat, and felt himself start to get close as Jaskier rose and sunk down again, while playing with his balls. 

Eventually it was too much, and Geralt came with a throaty growl. Jaskier didn’t move, just swallowed every bit of him with eyes squeezed shut. When Geralt’s body stopped quaking, Jaskier pulled away, and gave him a lazy smile. Geralt’s erection ticked in response. He leaned up and kissed the bard, delighting in the smell of seed on his lips. 

Whatever the exact nature of Yennefer’s potion, Geralt knew that he was just as ready now as he was an hour ago. He rolled Jaskier onto his back, and pulled his legs onto his shoulders. 

From among his clothes he pulled out his elixir bag, fishing amongst the bottles, by touch alone he identified his quarry. He pulled out the lube and spread it liberally over Jaskier’s ass, which made the bard moan and his sticky cock jump. His own cock was already wet with spit and cum, but Geralt applied more than a healthy dollop. Too many complaints had taught him ‘more was more’ where lube was concerned. 

Before he entered him, Geralt took a finger and ran it over Jaskier’s hole. The bard shook slightly, and bit his lip. The sight was almost too much for Geralt, and felt the leak of precum all over his belly. With care he pushed one finger in, while he began to jerk the bard with his other hand. He continued this for a while, until he felt Jaskier relax, and then continued a little while after that.

“For gods’ sake Geralt, please!”

Flashing a predatory grin, Geralt began to ease himself into Jaskier, continuing to work his cock while he entered him. Jaskier exhaled in a soft moan, but soon his hips were rising to meet Geralt, and he sighed, when Geralt was in him to the hilt. 

Geralt began to pull out for another thrust, when Jaskier grabbed him by the wrist, “Give me a moment. I--I just never thought that---”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice was distant thunder, as he thrust back in.

“OOOH by the gods!”

Geralt began slow at first, each stroke made Jaskier’s body shiver, and he could feel his legs clench every time he hit home. As he built up speed, he also built up pressure, which brought a stream of curses and pleas to Jaskier’s lips. The Bard didn’t stop talking even now. 

Geralt increased his pace, revelling in the sound of slapping skin and Jaskier’s fuck-punctuated moans. While one hand ran over Jaskier’s chest and passed a thumb over his lips, his other hand never left his cock. For a while he just held it, but as he felt the bard’s pulse in his hand, he began to stroke him again, timing each stroke so that Jaskier’s hips swung back and forth between Geralt’s fist and Geralt’s body. 

Though the bard announced his orgasm, Geralt felt it more than anything: the shudders of his body, the pull against his cock, those rapid breaths, uneven and hitched. When Jaskier came, shooting hot seed over both of them, it drove Geralt over the edge. He came as well, with a shout. 

“Fuck.” 

Jaskier giggled as Geralt rolled over and collapsed next to him, “I do believe that’s what just happened. Uh Geralt?”

Geralt looked down to see his cock still very much at full mast, and he could already feel a rising tide of desire. He took one look at the gasping bard, and grabbed for his elixir bag. Before he could pounce on Jaskier again, he pulled out a vial, ripped the cork off with his teeth and poured it down his throat. Gods did it burn. He shivered and shook for a moment, as the sweat of sex was mingled with something else, sticky and caustic. 

Geralt took a deep breath, and felt his erection begin to deflate. His body ached, and he was spent. He laid back down, and cuddled into Jaskier’s arms. 

“Your eyes have gone black again.”

“I needed something to help purge the potion. Else I would have fucked you to death.”

Jaskier chuckled, “I could think of far far worse ways to meet my end.”

They lingered for a while before rising. As luck would have it, a small orgy had broken out at the money lender’s house, so there were only two names left on their list, Aneta and Konrad. They first returned to Aneta’s house and found no one there. Konrad’s house was at the north edge of the village. They explored among the house, but nobody was there. Behind the modest farm house stood a barn. Konrad kept a number of irate goats, who had clearly not been fed for a while, but the horse stall was empty. 

“The horse is gone.”

“Looks like there are cart tracks in the dirt as well.” Jaskier observed. 

“Fuck.”

Leaving a confused Jaskier behind, Geralt tore out of the house and ran onto the highway. He wasn’t sure how far they’d gotten but, he needed to make up time, and a witcher’s greater speed could only get him so far. For the third time that day, Geralt went rooting around in his pack of elixirs, and pulled out a pair of potions, both a dark purple. The first he poured on his tongue bubbled and fizzed, evaporating into a gas, that invaded his nose and throat. He could feel his heartbeat increase, and his stride lengthen. Soon he was running fast enough to match a horse in full gallop but that wouldn’t be enough. He imbibed the second potion, and immediately felt pain in his chest. His heart hammered and his limbs burned. But with the pain, came new speed. 

He ran for more than a mile past the ring of fire when he found the pair on the road, an exhausted horse, taking the prods of a young woman, with a man passed out in the back of the cart. 

“ANETA!” Geralt bellowed as he came closer. The girl looked back, eyes wide, and switched the horse so hard its hind quarters bled. The poor animal produced a few half-hearted gallops before collapsing, sending the cart hurtling to the side of the road. 

When he approached he found Aneta pulling at a semi-conscious Konrad, there were tears in her eyes. “You need to stop.”

“No! I paid the witch and she gave him to me. She can’t take him away from me.”

“If you go any further, this could spread. People are already dying in Ruven.”

“I knew, I knew this was too good to be true. First, everything worked. But then other people started changing, and the witch cured him. He was horrified of me! But then he caught it again… and I knew this was my only chance. Please. Please don’t take him away from me.” tears ran down her face. 

“You drugged him. Why?”

She looked away, “When he was spelled the second time, he wouldn’t keep his hands off me. I-I-needed some time. So I gave him a little poppy milk.”

Geralt shook his head, “No. This ends now. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Aneta deflated, sniffled and sneezed, “Please sir, don’t do this, I love him.”

“No. You don’t.”

She blinked, “What in the burning hells do you mean, I did this for him, it was all for him!”

“If you loved him, you’d be too busy fucking him to run. Maybe you liked the idea of him, maybe you just wanted to be desired. But, the potion works on feelings of attraction, there has to be something there,” he looked down at her, trying to ignore the pain in his chest, “face it. The only person you loved was yourself.”

When Geralt returned with the pair, he could barely walk. It was nearly sunset when they made their way to the town square. Everyone was asleep save Yennefer who sat in a chair looking annoyed and strung out. There was a circle of tall candles all around the square.

“There you are! Put them with the others.” 

“Why are they all asleep?”

“The bard told me of the man who died from exhaustion. This was the easiest way to keep them here and still alive,” she glared at Aneta, “You have caused me no end of trouble. I should just leave you all to sleep for a hundred years.”

“Yen.”

“Fine. Sit there.” 

“Where’s Jaskier?”

She pointed to the sleeping bard, “There,” Yennefer glared at Geralt, “Somehow the bard was exposed to the potion, despite my ward. He must have... ingested it somehow.”

Geralt only shrugged. 

“Fine. Step out of the way Witcher while I work,” Yennefer rose, and with a gesture all of the candles lit. Their flames glowed blue in the dwindling evening light. She began to chant, and steam began to rise from the pile of sleeping people. Small whisps began even to rise from Geralt’s arms. The steam roiled in the air for a moment, a seething cloud, before simply fading away. Yennefer nodded and removed the ribbon around her face, “Kumquat.” 

At the word, people began to wake up. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier stood up in his ripped doublet, blinking, “What happened?”

“Yen cleared away the potion.”

“The potion?” he turned and regarded Yennefer, “Oh, you’re here.”

“Yennefer?” Geralt’s yellow gaze bore into her.

“I removed their memories. No need for a little mishap like this to ruin my business,” she flashed an enigmatic smile, “Farewell Geralt and… companion.” With that the sorceress strode off into the evening shadows.

“She’s a strange one. Beautiful, but honestly I don’t know what you see in her.”

Geralt only shrugged, “You can’t always control who we care for.” 

  
  


  
  
  



End file.
